2014.04.13 - The Heist
Three loud, but lethargic, taps against a semi-swanky hotel room door announce the presence of the world's most overqualified petty criminal. However, anyone looking at him now wouldn't think that this guy earned most of his living hustling people in the back rooms of bars. It's amazing what a nice suit will do for a person's look. Unfortunately, he apparently didn't think that the mission would be aided by shaving or running a comb through his hair, and his black silk shirt on slightly blacker suit ensemble would probably look less sleazey if he'd put on a tie. Or buttoned the top button. Or the two immediately below that. Or worn a t-shirt under that. But as he's done none of that, the bohemian sleazebag look will have to do. "Hurry up in there, Chere. We've got work to do." Pause. "Unless you haven't finished changing yet, in which case hold that pose while I pick this lock." The sound of the handle being frantically jiggled on the other side of the door ensues. But it quickly ceases. So apparently he was joking. The hotel room, as previously mentioned, is a semi-swanky affair. King-sized beds, marble floors, and excellent views of the water are offset by used rubbers in the hot tub filter, beer cans in the parking lot, and a concierge who can recommend a dealer for just about any type of drug. But there's nothing to offset the finery within the box that was left on the bed. Inside, is a dark green, strapless dress that must have cost at least three month's worth of poker hustling. The note pinned to the dress said 'I hid the shoes somewhere in the room. Good luck.' Rogue calls out from the other side of the door, "Just hold yer horses just one second, dang." This look didn't happen on accident! Most of her time was spent in the restroom putting on well-done makeup and curled her shoulder length layered hair. She rolled her eyes at the note on the dress, "You don't put holes in a dress like this. Some people." She managed to slide on the dress over her head herself, and checked it's appearance in the mirror. Not bad at all, even nailed the sizing right. Rogue made her way to the door and touched an ungloved finger to Gambit's lower lip, "Hm. Shoes are hidden underneath the couch cushions. Thanks 'sug! This power sure does come in handy." Gambit's greeting gets interrupted just before it gets to the dirty part "Why helloooo there, Miss Garbo. How about you and... (zap) ... No fair! I was going to turn that into a game!" Despite having the whammy put on him, he doesn't look especially disappointed. Or even surprised. Any joy he might have gotten from watching Rogue forage around like a squirrel certainly wouldn't have been worth the time it would have taken her otherwise. They do, after all, have a schedule to keep. Speaking of schedules, Gambit glances at one of the watches on his wrist. Yes, he's wearing multiple fancy watches. They clash with each other and with the seemingly random rings he's got on his fingers. His taste in Man Jewelry makes it seem as if he literally reached both hands into a display case at a pawn shop and decided to wear whatever he came up with. Surely that's not what he did... right? All part of getting into character, perhaps. The other arm has his trusty brown coat folded and draped over it. Even though it's not part of the ensemble, he doesn't seem willing to completely part with his security blanket. "We would have been fashionably late about an hour ago. Now we're just being rude." "We did play a game, and Ah won. Besides don't you cheat at cards anyway? Same deal." Rogue also gathered from his mind that he had something big planned. This was going to be interesting. She turned away from him and grabbed a pair of opera length black silk gloves and the hidden shoes, "And sorry about that. Some days this hair refuses to curl. But you um..." She glanced at the multiple watches on the arm, but the open chest somewhat stole the show, "Nice. You clean up nicely. Ah'm ready if you are!" A couple of minutes later... The hotel rooms are spiffy and all, but it's downstairs where the real action is. Out of the elevator, and onto the crowded floor, Gambit guides his guest past the slot machines, past the blackjack tables, past the dancing girls and the washed up singer, all the way back to the casino cage. With his arm extended out in a classical 'arm in arm' configuration, he's given Rogue plenty of leeway to sell the illusion that they came here together without her needing to actually touch any skin. Having left his ratty coat with the coat check lady, apparently she's become his replacement security blanket. "Can you hear me?" He whispers. The earbuds that he's provided are tiny enough that nobody is likely to discover them. Especially since both of their ears are pretty much covered in hair. Where he got such spiffy spy gear is anyone's guess. "Remember, after I set up shop at the roullette table, leave discreetly and get a few drinks at the bar. Most likely, the mark will approach you on his own, since none of these other girls look anywhere near as hot in their knockoff dresses. But if he doesn't, he'll definitely come to me when I start winning, so be prepared to adapt." And now they're at the casino cage. Gambit props a hand up on the desk, glances at the clerk, and says "Parieur." The clerk checks his list "Mister Parieur. Got you right here. Here are your chips" Plunk! "And be sure to let us know if you need anything." Gambit has to use both of his arms now, in order to carry his tray of multiple $25,000 plaques. These were some pretty fancy digs. The lights and sights in this area were always fantastic, but it certainly was cheesy and hid more of the ghetto aspects of the city. Still, it always was interesting. Rogue instinctively wanted to touch at her earbud, but instead touched at her hair once and returned it to her side. She whispered back, "Loud and clear. You sure do know how to spoil a girl on a date, this tech is fancy." She took a glance at some of the other ladies about. Some looked way richer and glamorous, others not so but she took the compliment, "Good thing Ah've got loads of practice of getting hit on by sleaze balls." When he interacted with the staff she stayed silent and flashed her dazzling white smile like good but silent arm candy. When you're about to cheat in a casino, the last thing you want them to think is that you're a mutant. So it's better for them to think you're a douche bag. Which is why 'Mr. Parieur' pushes the sunglasses up a bit higher on his nose after he sets down his tray. But it's probably not his face that anyone is looking at. Rather, it's where he put his tray. "Put it all on red." Not the first time anyone has done something so risky with so much money, but dramatic gestures like that are always attention-getters no matter how cliched they might seem. The dealer complies, and less than a minute later Gambit's money stack has gotten much larger. He pulls out a cigarette from his pack of Gauloises and lights it with his tacky gold-plated Zippo. Another pawn shop piece, most likely. "Think that'll do it, send my chips back to the poker room, will you?" Did he know that he would win or did he just take a chance? Either way, he's gone from mid-range douchebag to 'High roller/person of interest' in less than five minutes since he grabbed his chips. Under his breath, he mutters. "Alright Chere, time for you to lay the bait out." In her smooth as silk southern dialect Rogue touched at his shoulder, "Ah'm gonna get us a couple of drinks, can't let you die of thirst now can Ah?" She swaggered off towards the bar, sure to sway her hips just right that she might get attention. I mean sure, the high roller like Gambit was starting to get all of the attention, but the trophy date has to stand out somehow. She orders a top shelf bourbon for Gambit and a pricy red wine for herself. The drinks needed to fit their status of course. Unfortunately, Gambit's mark is busier than Gambit ever predicted. After nearly an hour at the poker table, and after winning two games, and after cheating both times, he still hasn't seen the pit boss, much less the casino's owner. He doesn't know a faster way to pile up chips though, so he prepares himself to spend the rest of the night right there in his seat. However, Rogue's swishing hips are somewhat more effective as an attention getter, it just takes a while. Eventually, the bartender informs Rogue that all of her drinks are on the house, and that "Average Sal has invited you to join him in the VIP Area. He would be... very disappointed if you refused." Up one of the opulent (to the point of tackiness) staircases, a white-haired man in an incredibly sharp suit stands surrounded by other men in other incredibly sharp suits and a group of women who look like their jobs involve trying on outfits for a living. The white-haired man raises his glass in greeting from all the way across the casino floor, and indicates with a slight nod of his head that she should walk across the floor, up the stairs, and join him. Must be nice to be filthy rich. As Rogue was making her way through the crowd, it masked her moving lips enough to whisper to Gambit that she in fact was 'in.' Which was always an important thing to point out in these sort of situations. As she met up with Average Sal (well that's a name) and his crew she was all smiles and laid on the southern charm, "Thank you kindly for the drinks! So glad to meet a gentleman. Such a thing can be hard to come by." "Damn. Guess I dressed up for nothing...." Gambit speaks aloud, but realizes mid-sentence that he needs to keep his sentences vague enough that they don't seem to be inapplicable to the card game he's playing. "... guess I'll skip the party and just stay here taking people's money." To the people sitting around him playing cards, he just looks like a spaz, not someone who's having a secret conversation (he'd get decapitated for that...). Sitting at the table doesn't really leave him the freedom to offer the girl advice, so she's left on her own to handle Average Sal, at least for now. Speaking of Average Sal, he's already cleared out a space next to him and had one of his waitresses bring her a glass of something that appears to be super-expensive. It's really dark red, anyway. So that's something. "Gentleman? I think you've got me pegged all wrong. I'm actually just trying to steal you away from your... husband?" He grins over his fancy scotch. The way a shark might grin if it only had one set of teeth. Rogue wanted to laugh but turned it into a smile. It was dreadfully cute to hear Gambit making such a flub. Still, at least for the moment it was harmless. At least for the time being he appears as just a rich eccentric. Which he has down to a T. "Fiance, actually." Enough of a lie to be in a relationship, but still approachable if someone oh so charming were to steal her away it would be plausible. She thanked the waitress for the drink and held it in her lap as she sat next to him, "He just loves comin' here. Me? Ah like the shows, the atmosphere. You meet such interestin' people, like folks who call themselves 'Average Sal'." It might not be apparent why 'Average Sal' is so named when seeing him seated with a bunch of important-looking people around him getting wasted and behaving poorly. But when he stands up, it becomes a bit clearer. The man is, at best, 5'4". And that's including the lifts he's undoubtedly wearing in his handcrafted Italian shoes. "Fiance? Excellent, that means you're still open to hearing better offers. But that's probably something I could do a lot more easily from my massive penthouse at the top of this building. Have you ever watched Duck Dynasty reruns on a 110" plasma tv?" He just kind of comes out and says stuff. Apparently it usually works. Either way, he's already extended a hand to his latest intended victim, and it's clear from his expression that he's not going to take no for an answer. "Slimy piece of shit!" Gambit looks around sheepishly. "Ignore that. I've got a good hand, really." But the sad thing is Rogue has bit hit on by less desirable people. But he may be a top contender. She let out a soft laugh and looked to the side, as she made it look like she was taking a sip of the drink, "That show is /so/ funny. It really demonstrates how important family and god are, Ah tell ya." Mentally Rogue's eyes roll to the back of her head and then some. It's easy to play the ignorant southern girl. But still, ew. She was going to need a long shower after this was over. Rogue did wish she was one of the mutants with telepathy, or borrowed the ability to check in with Gambit it was comforting to know at least he was hearing everything. She took his hand and walked with him towards the elevator, towering over him. She somewhat regretting how tall her heels were but perhaps he enjoyed tall women. Rogue let out a soft laugh, "Ah just realized in all this fuss you don't even know my name! It's Meghan. Funny how you can miss the little things." By now, Gambit has won his third game of poker, and has earned a mountain of chips. So, of course, he's attracted the attention of one of the pit bosses, who have now taken this opportunity to send two goons to place a hand on his sholder and ask him to please accompany them. Oh well, he can't complain about losing money that he technically didn't earn. And by 'technically' we, of course, mean 'literally.' "Come on, guys, I'd really like to get back to my game. Gee, I sure hope that my friend isn't in position with the target isolated so that she can work unimpeded. Because if she was, now would be the time for her to finish playing around and do her job." Gambit just used the word 'unimpeded' in a sentence. Subtle! Well not really but this was Rogue's first time doing this sort of thing! She stopped Average Sal in the elevator and drew him in for a hard kiss before as they made it into the elevator. As the kiss broke finally she spoke, "Sorry, don't know what came over me! But Ah'm thinkin...you've had too much to drink. The poor man" Rogue helped him down to the floor of the thankfully empty elevator. She downed the drink she had, hoping it didn't contain a roofie and placed it next to his empty hand, "Sometimes this city is too rough for ya." She stopped the elevator on the second floor but picked the button for the top floor as she was exiting. As she was exiting she whispered, "He's out, got his thoughts. And ew, the plans he had." "Good work, Chere. I'll make a distraction, meet me out front next to the valets." As he pulls off his sunglasses, a satisfied smirk spreads across his face. "You might want to pick up some mouthwash on the way though. Or gargle with 151." The two goons look at each other. "Who the fuck is this guy talking to?" Their curiosity dissipates when Gambit drops his shades. Wrestling free from their grasp, he makes a sudden dive away from the goons, leaping over a table and then rolling several times before lying flat on the ground. When the sunglasses hit the floor, a blast slightly more potent than a flashbang goes off, causing immediate panic, and stunning anyone around it. Before anyone realizes what's happening, Gambit is already up and running toward the door, making a quick visit to the coat check lady first, of course. Actually as Rogue was making her way out she grabbed a shot glass of some sort of liquid that taste was sure to be better as she downed it and quickly made her way for the door. Way to the side she could see the commotion caused by Gambit, the sly devil. Once she caught up with him outside she slipped off her heels and grabbed at his arm, a wide grin spread across her face, "What a thrill! Way better then what Ah probably woulda done this Saturday night normally. Might need less sleaze kissin' next time. Or at least more pleasant ones." The waiting man, turns quickly after getting his arm yanked. "Whoa! You got to take it easy there... hands like yours, I thought you were one of Average Sal's goons." He's only half kidding. Girl's got some vice grips. "We're not done yet though, that was just the fact-finding mission. Now that you know where the boat is docking, we've still got to get there. Which means you're driving. So...." Gambit looks at the selection from his vantage point near the valets. "Convertible, or hard top?" Category:Log